I'll be there
by SkyeElf
Summary: He'd been young when he died. She was heartbroken that he'd died, because he'd been a possible future for her if she didn't choose what she had. She had liked him and possibly even loved him, even if it was a strange love affair. But she couldn't regret the choice she had made either, because he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Draco/OC. Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I should say that, yes, there is an OC in this story, one with a tendency to swear and is rather vulgar, and that Draco would seem OOC, but I feel the need to point out why: He's a Slytherin, and while he's a total moron to the other houses, I think he would be friendlier towards those in his own house, and we only ever saw him from Harry point of view.**

**I don't own Harry Potter. I do own Riley, though.**

**This story is mostly fluffy, though, with a hint of sadness thrown in for my amusement. This will be at most fifteen chapters, ten of them are already written. This is just for fun.**

**I'll be there**

**Chapter 1**

It was unfair.

He'd been so young. So inexplicably young… yet he was dead. He'd turned seventeen a month ago. Exactly a month ago – she wondered when he was born, and if it correlated with the time of day.

She looked down at his corpse, where his younger brother was holding on to a cold and already blue and stiffening hand; whispering for his brother to come back, but it was too late. The smaller boy was rocking himself back and forth, and she wanted to put her arms around him, but she knew she couldn't, because it was not her place to do so.

His eyes were glassy, his expression neutral, his mouth agape in a curse it would now never shout, and his wand had fallen next to him. She was surprised that it hadn't been stepped upon. She had no clue as to whether his last moments were happy or not. She thought not – it was a bloody war!

She felt tears burn her eyes, but blinked them away quickly. She _couldn't_ collapse now. She turned her head away, before making her body follow her head. She finally forced her legs into action and walked away.

With every step she took, she was reminded of this very same action that she'd done the last time she saw him. And every step she took broke her heart into the tiniest of pieces that she would _never_ be able to pick up.

She didn't know if she was sorry. And she felt guilty for not knowing too.

_. . ._

_A few months ago_

She was sitting on the Quidditch stands, admiring the practice of the Gryffindor team. She always watched all the teams practice, and she made pretty accurate predictions on which team would win. She usually won the interhouse bets too. Colin was watching his house team practice, and he spotted her.

"I've been watching you," He started, "And you're really pretty. You've got one pair of amazing legs," He gestured to her legs, before lifting her arm and placing one hand delicately on his, "lovely hands, beautiful eyes… you are a very pretty girl."

She stared at him. What was he playing at?

He seemed to realise what he'd said, because he blushed and looked back at the match. Weasley just did a very impressive dive, and she gathered it would be another win for Gryffindor that year. Draco bloody Malfoy stood no chance, even if he had the ability to move at the speed of light. He lacked what she called skill, especially the seeker's skill (she thought he would be a better chaser, or he needed to get a few flying lessons), something he couldn't buy or force his father to get him via threatening ministry officials.

That bit gave her pleasure. Not that she had a problem with Draco as a person most days; she just hadn't been able to stand him at the beginning. He was vain and arrogant and a righteous bastard.

Riley did get to know him, but only later.

"I like you," He said next, "I know we've never spoken, but I like you. Not that I follow you around – that's creepy, but I hear you talk with Parkinson, and the way you talk to her – you're very nice, especially to her, did you know that?" He tilted his head to the side the tiniest bit.

She held back her laughter, "She's my best friend, Creevey, what is your point?"

"She's really annoying," He said, before slapping his hand over his mouth, "I'm sorry, that was mean."

She glared at him. He didn't flinch or anything, mostly because she looked like a tired cat when she attempted to glare.

"I'm sorry! But you're a very kind person, if she's your best friend." He tried to redeem himself, but he only made matters worse. She held up a hand to silence her.

"That annoying girl is still my best friend, Creevey; I won't let you badmouth her. I know several hexes, from slicing your toes, to giving you a million small parchment scratches to giving you a rash that may or may not be from this dimension." She threatened him, fingering her wand. She actually did know those hexes, even though she wasn't supposed to.

He held his hands up in surrender, "My apologies, great lady. Please accept my peace offering of…" he rummaged through his pockets, finding only his wand and, for some reason, a teaspoon, which he held out to her, "… a teaspoon."

She started to laugh uncontrollably. A bloody teaspoon? Why on earth was he carrying around a teaspoon? She took it, mostly because of the bizarre nature of the gift and the entire situation.

He smiled, delighted at her response, "Hey," He bent down and looked into her eyes, "You really do have beautiful eyes, you know? They're warm. I mean, they're green, but they're also so so so warm. I can probably be icy cold and when I look into your eyes, I'll get warm."

"Creevey, what the hell are you on about?" She demanded, looking away from his gaze, which was a bit discerning.

"Sorry, you're just… you're so pretty to me. Like I said, you have very nice legs, but I guess you knew that?" He laughed nervously, and she just nodded, if he liked to think she had nice legs, that was his problem. "And your eyes, which I finally saw up close – they're really warm. I'm not trying to make you feel weird, but I probably failed."

"Oh my gosh, Creevey, why are you rambling? If you're trying to compliment me, you could've just said 'you have nice eyes' without the warm eye explanation!" She snapped at him. He laughed again.

"Sorry, again, I just really like you," He blushed deeply, "and it took a lot of guts from me to come up to say that to you."

"Well, Creevey, I admire your balls. Now will you leave me alone?" She said without blinking.

Creevey started to laugh, "You're funny!" He yelled it as if he'd just found out the thirteenth use of dragon's blood. She smiled in spite of herself. He was sort of cute. He was clearly trying to impress her, but it led to, quite predictably, a mass of incoherent sentences and words.

"Do you like Quidditch?" He asked, glancing up at his house's team again, "I think they have a chance this year. Ginny's a good seeker, not Harry though, and Furrow's a decent keeper, he just needs to get over his nerves," Creevey glanced at her, a sly grin covering his features, "Should I lend him my balls?"

She slapped her hand to her forehead. She couldn't believe he had just said that. Yes, it was hilarious, but it was also a very bad attempt at flirting. She wasn't sure what to think of a random Gryffindor attempting to flirt with her. In fact, she wasn't used to being told she was pretty. Her mother and father always told her she was beautiful, but she didn't believe them. It was a rather nice change.

"Yes, Creevey," She sighed, "I like Quidditch. As for the ball thing – he has enough balls to handle in the air without you adding yours in the mix."

He grinned again, "You also have a very nice voice. Was that compliment good enough for you?" He winked at her, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes for probably the twentieth time.

"Can I owl you later?" The boy asked. What was this kid trying to do? She was a year older than he was… Dating a girl older than you wasn't strictly taboo, but it wasn't something in the norm. She had to fit in, that was her idea of survival of the coming war.

"Why do you want to owl me?" She finally spoke, unsure of what else to say. Her companion shrugged.

"Easy – I like you and I would like to get to know you better."

"I'm in Slytherin," she said, pointing to the embroidery on her shirt. He shrugged again, making himself comfortable next to her.

"So?"

She smiled despite herself and returned her attention to the match in the sky. Furrow had finally made a save and she had to tip her figurative hat to him: he was getting better.

"Can I owl you later?" He asked again, tapping her foot with his index finger.

"If I say yes, will you stop annoying me?" She asked, frowning, pretending to be severely annoyed, but she couldn't bring it over her heart to be mad at the grinning face in front of her.

He was kind of cute, after all; and she quite liked being told she was pretty. Plus, what could be the harm in communicating with a fifteen-year-old boy? Or sixteen, it depended.

He didn't move from her side until the end of the practice, where she got up, having to finish her Potions homework. She didn't want Slughorn on her case, he wasn't as bad as Snape had been, but he was strict with all houses, he didn't exclude Slytherins. She liked it that way.

Defence was a sort of nightmare now, what with Carrow playing professor there… she didn't get into trouble with the new professors, and she was glad for that, because for the first time in her life, being invisible and not noteworthy was paying off.

But Creevey had stuck to her side like glue, and he kept talking about random things. At one point he lifted his shirt, showing her a scar in the shape of the letter C that his cousin had given him with a muggle lighter while she was attempting to wake him; needless to say, he now had a new favourite cousin and his old favourite cousin wasn't allowed in his room.

Practice disbanded, and he bowed deeply before her, making her blush. He saw this and stuck out his tongue cheekily before running to the changing rooms.

She just shook her head, her coffee-bean coloured hair blurring her vision temporarily; she was admittedly amused.

. . .

**A/N: So, what do you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to Batmarcus for reviewing. It is much appreciated. This also dedicated to said boy because of said review. **

**Chapter 2**

That evening, just as she entered her dormitory after a refreshing shower, an owl swooped through the window beside her bed and landed on her bed. She knew it was Creevey, but she didn't exactly expect him to go through with the letter he'd promised.

Pansy started shrieking about someone spying on them, and Riley felt the need to roll her eyes – if Pansy didn't feel the need to prance around in her skimpy underwear, no one would feel the need to spy on them.

She approached the bird, taking the letter it brought. It ruffled its feathers, leaving a few feathers behind, before streaking through the window again.

"Who sends a letter at this time of night?" Pansy asked, leaning over her shoulder. Honestly, she loved Pansy Parkinson, she was her best friend, but the girl could be nosy.

"Your boyfriend, Pansy, who is attempting to get into my pants." She retorted. Pansy slapped her playfully on the shoulder. Pansy and Theo had been attempting a relationship for the past three weeks, and she sincerely hoped it work out for them. Theo was an okay guy. Not her type, of course, but he was still cute. She couldn't even stop the thought that Creevey was cuter.

"Secret admirer, I assume? Lucky – I don't have any of those." Pansy sang cheerfully, moving to her drawers and pulling out a silk nightdress.

"Pans, sweetie, it's sort of like a stalker with sweet words." She replied as Pansy made for the bathroom door. Pansy spared her a glance and a dramatic hair flip.

"It's romantic, darling, no one writes love letter anymore. You should tell your admirer to have a word with Theo."

"It isn't some stupid romantic notion, Pansy, it's bloody creepy!" She yelled as Pansy closed the bathroom door.

The other girls in the dormitory were staring at her, as if she had grown a second head, which, in hindsight, wasn't all that strange in the wizarding world. Her cousin, Doris, had managed it the previous year.

"What?" She snapped at the girls, looking down her body theatrically, "Am I wearing your underwear or something?"

The girls blushed and looked away. She nodded satisfactorily, muttering something about rude people.

They were probably staring because their year, or rather their dormitory, weren't accustomed to receiving notes at night. Or at all. She was the Slytherin outsider, mostly because she was an artist and ignore the pure blood supremacy and the fact that she was best friends with Pansy Parkinson; Pansy was severely annoying; Millicent wasn't the thinnest or the prettiest and the other two girls weren't very… normal. They acted in perfect synchronisation, finishing one another's sentences, nodding at the same time and copying one another's gestures… they were like a spooky version of the Weasley twins.

She scoffed and opened the letter.

_Dear Riley_

_I'm sorry. I'm not that good with letters, nor am I the best of guys. I fully realise that you're a year older than I am, but this doesn't faze me at all. What does bother me is the stupid no Slytherin/Gryffindor dating rule – not that it's a real rule, but I think we both know that our house mates wouldn't let us forget it._

_I'm not afraid of liking you, but I am afraid of being rejected that I said it. I know, I sort of jumped it on you, I could've started with a love poem or a card, but that's just weird, don't you think? So I decided just to walk up to you._

_I am in love with you._

_Now, because I know I've only technically known you a day, here's a list of _why _I like you:_

_You admire my balls _

_Your personality completely overrates me_

_You speak to me from your heart, and you speak honestly. You don't beat around the bush. I annoyed you, and you said it. _

_Your voice – I would love it if you would sing me a lullaby. I bet you're a fantastic singer and you're just hiding it. Not that you can actually show it at Hogwarts – maybe I should write to Dumbledore after this. Do you sing in the shower? Because that shower is very lucky. _

_Your eyes make me all warm. They warm my heart – you have very soft eyes._

_You're fun to talk to, girl, and you know a lot of ball related jokes._

_Thus far, my favourite memory is one of spending time with you._

_Yours (hopefully)_

_Colin_

She liked the ending. _Yours hopefully_. It was rather sweet. And the letter, while creepy, di dmanage to melt her heart the tiniest bit. And he _numbered_ it. Gosh, how lame was that?

She decided, for some odd reason, perhaps she rather liked the attention, but she decided to write back. The other girls were still staring at her, but she waved a hand at them annoyed, telling them to be on their merry way. It was strange how Millie and the twins (who weren't even related or looked alike) kept looking at her.

She got out a piece of parchment and her favourite quill. It was green, like her eyes.

_Creevey_

_You barely know what love is, kid, don't claim to be taken by me. Your letter was sweet, but love isn't something that happens overnight. It's a process._

She didn't sign it, because she never signed her letters. It was one of the things she absolutely hated to do. So she just rolled it up and put it on her nightstand to send the following morning, but she did tuck his letter under her pillow for some reason.

. . .

The next morning, she found Pansy reading her short reply. She fumed at that, what was wrong with Pansy? She surged forward, slapped the living daylights out of Pansy and wrestled the letter from her grip.

"What the fuck?" Pansy yelled at her, nursing her bruising eye, "Why did you hit me?"

"Because, Pansy, I'm fucking tired of you going through my private things," She retorted, "If I catch you again I will hurt more than just your eye. This isn't your business!" Her yelling woke up Millie and creepy twosome, who were staring at her in awe. Riley had finally opened up her mouth to Pansy, it seemed, and they were relishing it.

"Of course it is; I'm your best friend!" Pansy whined. She didn't seem too offended by Riley telling her to sod off.

She rolled her eyes. "Does that give you permission to rummage through my things? Pansy, I don't go through your things, do I? How would you feel if I read your diary? Or better, I tell Draco _and Theo_ about your unhealthy obsession with Draco?" She said, collecting her clothes and going to the bathroom to get dressed, ignoring the spluttering reply of her best friend.

Once they were seated at the Slytherin table, and Pansy's black eye was gone, the two girls relaxed into a comfortable silence. They had a strange friendship, no doubt about that, and most thought it was simply a friendship of convenience, but for the two girls it was so much more. They were sisters, and they learned to forgive one another fairly quickly, because it was sort of the only companionship both of them had. Pansy was tolerated in Slytherin, because her parents were somewhat wealthy and she was a pureblood. Riley's parents were a mystery, however.

Riley had already sent the reply to Creevey, and while doing it she promptly ignored her best friend trying to find out what was going on.

. . .

**A/N: Riley is **_**such a bitch**_**! What the hell is her problem? Seriously, girl, get over yourself!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks again to Batmarcus for reviewing. Please do review again.**

**Chapter 3**

She was leaning over the latest issue of her favourite sporting magazine when someone sat down next to her two days later. Pansy was on her other side, and Riley vaguely saw her friend's actions still, but didn't think too much of it. She didn't look up, because whoever sat down next to her probably didn't even know her.

"Frost?" Someone said, and she looked up to find Draco Malfoy speaking to her. She frowned, what did he want? Perhaps some flying tips? She was a better Quidditch player than he was, but his father had bought his spot as seeker in their second year, so, seeing as this was her seventh year, she really had no chance of ever playing Quidditch at school level. That and the Slytherin team didn't like having girls on their team. Sexist assholes.

"Can I help you?" She asked, looking back at her magazine. Oliver Wood, bless his soul, had just played his first match as Keeper for her favourite team, and she wanted to know how it had gone.

Also: Malfoy was talking to her? He would be damaging his social stance. It was breakfast and everybody could see him.

A pale hand was placed over the article she was reading, and she heard Pansy draw in her breath. Draco Malfoy had just made a huge mistake. Pansy was well acquainted with Draco and his family, due to some business deal their parents had. That, and Pansy had a crush on him.

"Draco, darling, I advise you to get your hand off the magazine. Riley _will_ hex you, and last time I tried to draw her away from her Quidditch, I was vomiting bees for a week." Pansy said, and Draco removed his hand quickly.

Riley looked up, and finally her glare looked less like a tired cat – it looked like Snape's female version. _No one_, not the minister himself or the Dark Lord, should disturb her while she was reading her sporting magazine and looking at Oliver Wood's _very nice_ body.

"I'm sorry," he said, his hands up in defence, "I just wanted to talk to you."

She sat back, putting the magazine down, "Okay, that's what you're doing right now, isn't it? What do you want?" She spat at him.

Draco's cheeks reddened a bit, and she stared. Draco Malfoy was blushing? Why? And while she had noticed some changes about him, she didn't expect to find the Malfoy heir blushing. It was beneath him, she would imagine.

"Can I talk to you later?" He mumbled, casting his eyes down. She laughed loudly, gathering her sporting magazine and bag. She didn't have time for this.

"See you in class, Pans, Draco," she nodded to each of them in turn before walking off. She probably would speak to the ferret later, but he had just awakened her scorn, that vice that is universal for all women, and she had no intent of letting up easily.

She walked right into the last person she wanted to see – Colin Creevey, who smiled brightly when he saw her. He hadn't replied to her note yet. She rolled her eyes and pushed past him, intent on ignoring him for the rest of her life.

…

It wasn't long after that Draco found her again, this time in the library, where she was quietly taking bets on the winning Quidditch team. Many of her housemates considered her a traitor for putting all her money on Gryffindor, but she didn't care, she knew talent when she saw it.

She was just happy that Snape hadn't banned the sport too, otherwise she would be destroying the castle. She needed some sort of outlet, otherwise she'd break something valuable.

He kept lingering in the library, flipping through some of the books, but all the while keeping a bored expression on his face.

"Look, Frost, I need your Quidditch expertise, or I need you to step in and play for the Slytherin team." He said when she was finished taking bets, stuffing the money into a pouch around her neck; later she'd seal them in her suitcase.

She looked up at Draco and scoffed, "Draco, I just bet all my money on Gryffindor, why should I go against something that's in my own interest?" She started to walk back to their Common Room, and he followed.

"I will reimburse you," He promised, "please, Frost, I need this. It's the only thing keeping me sane." He took his platinum hair into his hands and pulled. She stopped mid-stride – what was going on?

"What is wrong with you, Draco?" She kept the accusation out of her voice. Now she was curious.

"Just… please? I don't trust you yet, but the whole Quidditch team knows you're better than us, because you actually study the games and you can tell us what's wrong. Please, Frost? Just train me a bit. I'll pay you for it, I will, just… Help me."

She glanced at him, seeing him beg was what made her decision. His eyes were red, as if he'd been rubbing them a lot, and he was actually paler than usual.

"Quidditch pitch tomorrow at five, don't be late and bring an extra broom." She said, before giving the password to the portrait and made her way to the dormitory. Draco didn't speak to her when they entered the Common Room, she noticed.

She sealed the list of bets and the money in her suitcase along with a severely nasty curse as a treat for anyone who opened it.

Turning around, she spotted another letter on her bed, and she supressed the urge to roll her eyes. Couldn't Creevey use his brain? She wasn't interested. The other day he might have piqued her curiosity, but now he was only annoying her.

She folded the letter open and read.

_Riley_

_You honestly don't know me, do you? This is the fastest I have ever fallen for anyone, and I don't plan on letting that go. You can be a bitch to me all you like, doesn't mean I will give up._

_Colin_

She hated that he used her name; he wasn't friendly enough to do that. Heck, Draco didn't even see himself as friendly enough yet, even if they had been in the same class for nearly seven years.

She took her quill and scribbled an answer.

_Firstly, it is 'Frost' to you, you are nowhere near important enough to call me by my first name. Secondly, my last name gives an accurate description of how you can expect me to handle you._

She put the letter under her pillow again and retired to the bathroom to shower and get into her pyjamas, she was planning on an early night, seeing as she had done her homework a week in advance and she figured she could do with a little downtime. She still had that magazine article to read too.

Just as she finished the first paragraph, Pansy burst into the room, and Riley closed the magazine with an audible sigh (one Pansy would miss), fully expecting a Pansy-themed drill.

It proved to be true, because Pansy wanted to know what she was doing with Draco Malfoy and what was the story with Colin Creevey, and did she know that dating Gryffindors were absolutely taboo? Like seriously rather-eat-your-own-toenails taboo. Riley had to laugh at Pansy's antics.

"Pans, sweetie, since when exactly do I give a damn about taboos? You know I don't follow the crowd, I'm off on the side playing with my dolls and tossing seeds at idiots." Riley grinned. Pansy laughed.

"I know, but come on, it's Draco Malfoy and Colin Creevey!" Pansy shrieked.

"Draco wants flying tips and Creevey's got a stupid little crush on me, that's it. I'm not encouraging him, I'm discouraging him. At first I thought it would be interesting, I admit, and I do deserve a bit of attention, seeing as you and the Greengrass sisters get it all the attention." She shrugged. It was true. She was a plain girl, or that was how she saw herself, with too much fat on her hips and breasts that just weren't what boys wanted.

Pansy smiled softy, cupping her friend's face, "Rile, kid, I know you don't think so, but you're exceptionally beautiful." Pansy hugged her. Riley shimmied out of the hug – she didn't like to be hugged – and smiled thankfully at Pansy.

She didn't say it, but it was Pansy's duty to say she was pretty when she wasn't; it was what friends did, as easy as that. And Riley loved having Pansy around.

. . .

**A/N: Please leave a review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks again to Batmarcus for reviewing. I think he's the lone reader of this fic. **

**Chapter 4**

Draco arrived on time, but Riley Frost didn't. She arrived at the Quidditch pitch two minutes later. Just to prove a point – though exactly what that point was, she had no idea.

"So, what do I need to know?" He asked, skipping the small talk; she appreciated that. _Let's keep this strictly business,_ she thought.

"First of all, wear these," She tossed him a pair of ear plugs, "Drown out the noise. Focus on what you see rather than what you hear. The snitch is golden, not true? On a sunny day it will reflect the sun, but on a cloudy or rainy day you need to wear a magnetic watch. Snitches are magnets, despite it being gold, and will either be drawn towards it or be repelled by it."

"A magnetic watch? Where would I acquire one of these things? It's the twentieth century, Frost, not the seventh." He sneered at her.

"No need to be such a little bitch about it," The brunette snarled at him, "We're also wizards, in case you forgot, so pull up your big girl panties and use your wand." She mounted her broom and kicked off. She let the broom shoot her straight into the sky, the icy wind blowing her loose hair away from her face. She pulled the broom to a stop at the top, right in the middle of a fluffy cloud, before shooting straight towards Draco. He saw her just in a knick of time and dodged sideways.

He hadn't put the plugs in yet, he was looking for her.

"Always be aware of what's going on around you," The Slytherin girl said, "You're the seeker – you're also a flying target for the beaters and dirty chasers. So never get too comfy on your precious little broom. I also advise keeping an eye on your opponent and faux diving a few times, just for the heck of it."

"I am an excellent flyer," Draco said once she finished her rambling, "But I can't control a broom like you just did. You stopped immediately, you didn't even slow down."

"That's because I'm the boss and the broom knows it," She offered with a smile, "But it has to do with reflexes mostly. Don't use big movements, just use your wrists to tug the broom into what you want it to do. Try it."

He shot off to the sky and she followed, shouting instructions, but her voice was swept away by the wind rushing past them. He finally came to a stop high above the ground, and she saw him lose his nerve at being so high up.

"No, Malfoy, think of a pink bunny," She reached out and gripped his shoulder, "A fucking pink one, okay?"

He looked at her like she had lost her mind, "A pink bunny? What the…"

"Or green, if you prefer," She said, willing her broom to descend, and Draco's followed, "With silver stripes. I like green, it's such an earthly colour. Isn't green a pretty colour?"

"I prefer blue, it reminds me of the sky," He looked up, but the sky was still a bit dark, the sun hadn't risen yet, "It reminds me of freedom."

"Are you not free, Draco?" She asked, keeping him distracted as they descended. He met her eyes before glancing at his broom handle. They started to descend faster, the green grass nearing them.

"Can I trust you, Frost?" He asked softly. Suddenly they stopped, but she didn't allow the broom to jerk to a stop.

"Draco, I just guided you the ground from a very scary height," She took her hand off his shoulder, "I think it's okay to trust me not to kill you."

Draco looked down at the ground and made a strange strangling sound in surprise – they were hovering only a few inches off the ground!

He grinned at her. She was taken aback – Draco Malfoy was _smiling_ and _meaning_ it. What the hell had happened to her idea of normality? She glanced at the sky to see if there really were pink bunnies there.

"Again, and this time, block the wind around your head so I can hear you." He said, flying into the sky again. She laughed and followed. He didn't go as high as he had previously.

They spent a good hour on flying alone. Draco's face was flushed and he was breathing heavily, but he didn't seem to mind.

"I forgot that I loved to fly," He admitted when they landed, "It's the best sensation in the world, don't you agree?"

"Yes, but nobody seemed to share that sentiment with me," Riley sighed dramatically, "Well, now I have a flying buddy." She put her broom on her shoulders, Draco liked to keep it in his hand. They fell into stride next to one another.

"You want to do this again?" Draco asked, and she couldn't decipher his expression. She couldn't normally read anyone's expression but Pansy's, mostly because she wasn't paying attention to others.

But here she was paying attention, and made a mental note to do it more often.

"Oh, I thought you wanted flying tips," She teased him, "But if not, then okay…"

"No, you misunderstand, what I meant is… you're not going to give up on me?" His eyes were abnormally large, she thought, and she thought she saw a slight trace of hope flicker somewhere on his face.

"No, Draco, you actually understand my obsession," She replied, "I'm never giving up flying again."

"You're one of a kind," He said, and she wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not, "I would like to keep these sessions a secret, if you don't mind." He tried to sound nonchalant, but was failing miserably. She frowned, she had known this was coming, why was she disappointed?

"Frost," A voice called, and she looked around. Colin Creevey. She had a weird sensation swoop in her stomach: she wanted to groan, but at the same time her heart fluttered. What the hell? "Can I have a word?"

"See you." Malfoy said, going on without her. She didn't want him to leave; she didn't want to be alone with Creevey.

Emotions were confusing in general.

"What do you want?" She demanded, swinging her broom down from her shoulders and gripping it in her hand; ready to hit him over the if necessary.

"I want to know if I can write to you again," He smiled adorably at her, "Come on, it won't do you any harm."

"You can do as you wish, Creevey, I just don't guarantee a reply," She started to walk back to the castle.

"Come on, please? I have this massive crush on you, and I don't know anything about you, except that you admire my balls."

"Why were you out here so early?" She avoided his balls too – she wished she'd never said it, he was now using it against her.

"I'm always up this early – I like to take photos of this place. There's always a new angle or an interesting creature to find here." He shrugged. She nodded thoughtfully.

"I have to go, I'll see you around." She didn't look at him and ran like the hounds of hell were at her heels.

She then rushed to the dungeons and found Pansy. It had been a very interesting morning. Pansy told her to go take a shower and then return, she didn't want a stinky friend.

. . .

**A/N: Meh. Review?**


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